Ognuno di noi è soltanto un uomo, soltanto un tentativo, un incamminato. Ma si deve essere incamminati verso la perfezione, in direzione del centro, non della periferia.
Nothing was, nothing will be, everything has reality and presence.
Mancher wird niemals Mensch, bleibt Frosch, bleibt Eidechse, bleibt Ameise. Mancher ist oben Mensch und unten Fisch. Aber jeder ist ein Wurf der Natur nach dem Menschen hin. Und allen sind die Herkünf...
Look, he said, I am superior to you only in one point: I’m awake, whereas you are only half awake, or completely asleep sometimes. I call a man awake who knows in his conscious reason his innermost un...
Let me say no more. Words do no justice to the hidden meaning. Everything immediately becomes slightly different when it is expressed in words, a little bit distorted, a little foolish...It is perfect...
Kamala did not try to find him. She was not surprised when she learned that Siddhartha had disappeared.
Jābrīnās, ko tik visu cilvēks nenorij! Laikam gan minūtes desmit es lasīju avīzi, ar redzes starpniecību ielaizdams sevī kāda bezatbildīga cilvēka domas — tāda, kurš apviļā un apsiekalo citu teikto,...
I had often marked the contrast between their almost ludicrous gaiety and my lonely existence, sometimes with scorn, sometimes with a feeling of deprivation. But never until today had I felt with as m...
I became unhappy because I saw nothing but the usual tribulations, trade, progress, and improvements on the earth.
Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
Había amado y, a través del amor, se había encontrado a sí mismo. La mayoría ama para perderse.
First you must climb the Mountain of Knowledge, then you must perform some deeds, and finally you must find love and become happy.
Everyone takes, everyone gives, such is life.
Did all this make sense?
Charm me. Furiously. Torment me. In detail.
Anyone can reach his goals if he can think, if he can wait, if he can fast. Kamala
And while he compared all these things which he was seeing with his eyes to the mental pictures he had painted of them in his homesickness, it became clear to him that he was, after all, destined to b...
Ah, it is hard to find this track of divine in the midst of this life we lead, in this besotted humdrum age of spiritual blindness, with its architecture, its politics, its men!
It is easier to bear the worries of wandering than to find peace in your hometown, where only the sage can live in a happy house surrounded by trite troubles and daily distractions.
Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.